


Super Heroes

by violetlolitapop



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Human Names Used, M/M, as to where this is all going, if more tags are needed i'll just add them i really just have a vague idea, undercover cops and street gangs au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-10-20
Updated: 2013-10-20
Packaged: 2017-12-30 00:04:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1011656
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetlolitapop/pseuds/violetlolitapop
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I've done a lot, God knows I've tried. <br/>To find the truth, I've even lied. <br/>But all I know is down inside I'm bleeding."</p>
<p>(Or: The one where Alfred and Ivan try to do what's for the greater good, but they're both just very terrible people.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Super Heroes

It's the whiff of cigarette smoke that wakes him.

Ivan nose wrinkles at the smell, an instant reaction as he's never cared much for the scent, and he shifts beneath the sheets tangled around his body. There's the sound of another inhale and nothing else, it's almost eerily quiet. Still, his eyes remain shut until eventually they slowly begin to crack open and take their time in adjusting to the dark of the room. He first comes to see what should be a large window exposing the outside world covered with thick curtains that hide bright city lights in the distance. With this recognition, he's finally able to realize just how late it actually is and he's fully awake.

He sits up a bit too quickly, makes his head throb a bit at the sudden movement and pays no mind to the cool temperature the night brings hitting his bare skin. He looks around for anything that may show him the time, and instead finds the source of the smoke.

It's not far from his own position , sitting on top of the simple desk at the foot of the bed, Alfred sits right on top. There's a lit cigarette in his hand, knees brought up to his chest, his face hidden by the shadows for the most part. It's only when he brings his cigarette to his lips that he's able to make out that he isn't wearing his glasses, he's redressed himself in nothing more than a loose shirt and his boxers. He looks a bit haggard, worn out for some reason. Ivan wonders if he'd be out of line if he were to ask him what was the matter. He's not sure, so he goes for a safer question.

"What time is it?" he asks. "Alfred?"

Instead of giving an answer, Alfred takes one last drag of his cigarette and puts it out against the surface of his desk. Ivan again wrinkles his nose in disgust and disapproval. Really, he knows Alfred has the means to replace his furniture, but that doesn't mean he shouldn't at least make an effort to care for them.

Without even waiting to hear if a reply will ever be given, Ivan throws the sheets off of him and moves to sit on the edge of the bed. With his eyes adjusted to the lack of light he goes about scanning the floor for his things. His pants are nearby, no sign of his boxers, and hell if he knows where his socks are. He's pretty sure his shirt is in the living room, he'll grab it on the way out when he leaves.

He's too preoccupied with redressing to notice the bed dip behind him. He only notices Alfred's closeness after he drapes his arms over his shoulders and buries his face into the cook of his neck. Rather going still at the surprise move, Ivan only smiles and leans back into his casual embrace.

"You slept a lot longer than usual. It's almost three," Alfred says, and the smell of nicotine and ash is heavy on his tongue.

Ivan ignores it in favor of swearing under his breath. "It's late. I shouldn't have stayed this late."

Alfred tightens his hold, brings his arms to wrap closer around his neck. "You should just leave her already. Move in here with me."

It's with an exhausted sigh that he removes the hold Alfred has on him and shifts to face him. No one would ever believe him if he were tell them that Alfred Jones, independent stronghold of the meanest city streets, is a little too clingy for his own good.

"It's complicated," Ivan says. "It's not that easy."

He gets up, picks up his pants and slips them on as Alfred throws himself back.

"How?" he practically demands. "I mean, don't you just have to say something like, 'Yo, babe, I got someone better, we need to split up.'?"

"Not everyone is as tactless as you. Where are my shoes?"

"I'm not even really sure what that means, but whatever it is I'm totally not. I'm honest. And I'll never tell, you'll just have to spend the night here."

Ivan turns back to him, sees him as all smug smiles and mischievous eyes and can't help the quirk of his own lips. He goes right up to him and leans over. There's no hiding the triumphant look on Alfred's face as Ivan makes to kiss him. There's almost mistaking the disappointment when he pulls away the minute Alfred tries to slip his tongue in between his lips for a chance at round two.

"You taste like an ash tray," Ivan tells him. "It's rather disgusting."

He straightens himself as he goes on to look for his shoes as Alfred lets out a loud groan. It's both fitting and a little ridiculous how he chooses to release his frustration at being denied.

"I can have your head for that," he says. "If I wanted, you know. I don't let just anyone insult me."

"Then I'm honored. Besides it's the truth, and I do hate the taste."

"Now who's being tactless?"

Ivan laughs off the comment, finally finds what he's looking for under the bed. He's back on the edge of the bed, slipping them on, and relacing.

"I thought you were gonna quit," he says.

"What?"

"Smoking. I though you were gonna quit it."

"I did," he sighs and sits up. "I got some bad news though. Some bullshit's starting up and unless you wanna see me start going bald from tearing my hair out, you'll appreciate my smoking."

"I'd rather you be bald and healthy."

"Hmm? You'd still fuck me even if I was bald?"

"Bald, balding, it wouldn't matter to me. You're still gonna be you, right?"

Alfred says nothing, and for a moment Ivan panics in thinking that maybe he's said something wrong. He's ready to correct himself, maybe even assure Alfred on his looks, which looking back he should have taken into consideration how vain the other man can be. Though, as he looks back to Alfred, he doesn't see anything written on his expression that would say he's in trouble. Rather... he looks a bit awestruck.

"Well," he says. "That's definitely it, you're not allowed to go back, you're gonna be mine now. Full time."

The sudden rush of relief that washes over Ivan has to show no matter how much he may have tried. Alfred's definitely noticed the way his shoulders sag under released tension. He shuffles over to him on his knees, rests his head against his shoulder and says, "You don't have to worry. I know.. I know I'm not a good person, but I do like you, Ivan. You're honest with me and all, you're probably the only one. I like that about you, I like that I can trust you, you don't have to be afraid to talk around me."

Something ugly twists itself in Ivan's stomach. He's starting to feel nauseous and disgusted with himself. He does what he's trained to do and hides it under the guise of being wary.

"It's easy to forget who you are sometimes," he says. "I should be more respectful."

Alfred snorts. "Leave manners and shit to people who need to remember it. Especially Arthur. 'By the way, thought I should let you know that your incompetence once again let another klep through the ranks. Just a suggestion, you might want to do some rounds. There's money missing from your side.' The fuck is that? Y'know, we trade foot soldiers all the time, for all anyone knows the little shit came from him, but nah, it's gotta be my fault, right?!"

Ivan shushes him, does what he can to calm him before he gets too worked up. "It's a small problem. We'll find it, we'll take care of it."

It's Alfred's turn to deflate. The rising aggravation in him suddenly running out of his leaves him looking even more exhausted than before. "It's just really annoying."

Ivan turns his head, presses a small kiss on top of the mess of blonde hair. "You should sleep, you'll feel better after some rest."

"I'll sleep better if you stay next to me."

He hums more than he does sighs, "I have to go."

"No."

"Alfred..."

"Fine, go," Alfred says and pushes him away. "You really do need to take care of that though."

"I know, I know, I will." He's stands and makes for the door. He's already halfway through when he suddenly remembers that he should ask after his schedule. "What time should I be back?"

"As soon as possible," Alfred answer. "I have to make rounds some time in the afternoon, figure out where the trouble's coming from, but I want you to myself for awhile before that."

"I'll keep that in mind," he jokes, and while he may chuckle at it, Alfred's expression remains the same.

"I'm serious," he says. "I really would like you to myself soon."

Ivan's smile falls to something a little less. He doesn't say anything, he only nods, he knows how much he really does mean that. It seems to please him enough, Alfred must take it to mean something akin to a serious declaration. If that's how he feels, Ivan won't correct him on his message.

"Love you," says Alfred, wanting it to be the last thing he says to him on their departure.

Ivan pretends that it doesn't break his heart. "Love you, too."

He leaves the room soon after. Just as he imagined, lying right there in the living room, he picks up his shirt and the jacket he had been wearing earlier that evening. He slips both on before exiting through the front door, glad to have the jacket at least, it's pretty cold at this hour. The neighborhood Alfred lives in may be nicer than the rest, but it's still adjacent to the streets that he runs, and knowing the danger they pose even for someone of his stature and strength this late has him head for his car without any hesitation.

However, once inside he sits there for a good solid moment or two, looks back to the house he's just left and wonders briefly if Alfred is watching him from his bedroom window. Before taking off, the last thought he has is how he never meant to delve this deep, at least not by doing something like this. He wishes that he could have stopped himself better, wishes that he could at least come to regret it, if only a little.

He's such a terrible person, too selfish for his line of work.

"To Protect and to Serve."

What a laugh.

**Author's Note:**

> -written for feathers-of-time on tumblr.
> 
> -because having extensive simpsons knowledge will automatically make me like you and want to write you things.


End file.
